


Strangers

by colourwhirled



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Introspection, Zutara Month 2015, because even though katara didn't get with zuko at the end, she sure as hell thought about it, thought about it a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5633329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourwhirled/pseuds/colourwhirled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But when they move, it's in perfect harmony, and when she's in danger, he'll jump in front of lightning for her, and when he looks at her, it's like she's the world for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers

**Strangers**

 

 **Summary:** Katara learns to live with her choices. One-shot. Written for Zutara Month 2015.

 **Disclaimer** : ATLA & its characters are property of Bryke. I'm just a sad little fan here to let out some anguish at the fact that Zutara isn't canon.

 

* * *

 

In the end, it has always been a choice between glowflies and fireworks.

The boy with the arrow tattoo on his head has loved her since the moment he saw her. She knows that. Somewhere inside her, she’s always known it. He dotes on her, grows sulky when he doesn’t hold her attention, and when he finally grabs her, he is half desperation, half hope. When they dance together, she can feel the beginnings of a stirring of fire and passion, but his kisses taste of youth and innocence.

The son of the fire lord with the scar on his face does not love her, she convinces herself. At first she thought he was incapable of such a feeling, but now she knows better. Time and time again he proves his worth, his redemption, and when she finally forgives him for his past transgressions, the relief in his eyes makes her question her convictions. 

But Zuko is a creature of darkness. Aang is light personified.

But what is light without darkness?

Even she has darkness deep within her. And when Aang was ready to dismiss that, it was Zuko who accepted that part of her without question, who understood her need for justice, closure, vengeance.

As a child forced to shoulder the burden of a grown man prematurely, he gets her in a way that Aang, still so sheltered, never can.

And it frightens her.

Because Aang is the last of his kind. Aang is one of a kind. Aang is memories of home and childhood and a time before the war. Aang is penguin-sledding and discovery and her first time mastering the water whip.

But Zuko is her first memory of defiance. He is the prince in the boat who hunted them relentlessly across the world. He is the thief in the night who stole her mother’s necklace and tied her to a tree. He is the first firebender she defeated at the North Pole, and later, the first to ever earn her trust back. Twice. He is terror and inspiration and devotion so fierce it hurts her head to think about it.

Aang’s love is like a swarm of little glowflies, small and organic and perfect. Like the trail of phosphorescent stone that led them out of darkness in the mountains of Omashu, they are illuminating without being dangerous, beautiful and harmless, steady and reliable. You can live with glowflies for a very long time, she reasons. You can tame them. You can put them in a jar and bring them home with you, and they won’t hurt you, not once.

Zuko doesn’t love her, she reminds herself. But if he did, his love would be like fireworks. An explosion of light so blindingly dazzlingly bright and burning hot to the touch. A fleeting thing of impossible, unnatural loveliness. But you can’t spend the rest of your life with fireworks. You can’t light your home with them. They would consume you whole. And that right there, perhaps, is where the allure lies.

Because when Aang looks at her, his eyes sparkle, but when Zuko looks at her, his eyes _devour_.

Aang is somehow calming and energetic at the same time, like the air. Zuko warms her straight to the soul and she is afraid of being drawn in, of being burned by his fire.

But when Aang disappears the night before the final battle, and she is ready to believe the world is falling apart, it is Zuko’s hand on her shoulder that brings her back.

When she looks at Aang, she sees the man he might be, once he’s finished growing and shed the last vestiges of childhood. When she looks at Zuko, she sees the man he’s become, and when she embraces him, she notices that she fits into his arms perfectly, the planes of his strong body warm against hers.

Aang is her best friend. She needs him. And more importantly, he needs her.

Zuko doesn’t need her. And she doesn’t need him. Not yet.

But when they move, it’s in perfect harmony, and when she’s in danger, he’ll jump in front of lightning for her, and when he looks at her, it’s like she’s the world for him.

But he won’t make her decisions for her.

And later, in a teashop in Ba Sing Se, when she, dressed in green with a pink flower in her hair, follows the Avatar out onto a balcony, he doesn’t say a word.

And as the years follow and their paths diverge and they slowly, inevitably become strangers again, Katara doesn’t let herself think about another life she might have lived.

But as an old widow with grandchildren embarking in adventures of their own, sometimes she wonders. Sometimes she catches herself recalling, wistfully, that fateful day of endings and beginnings, that day of fire and lightning, when the comet had streaked like blood across the sky. She just has to close her eyes and she is there.

The wind whipping through her hair, the acrid smell of smoke and charred cloth and singed flesh still sharp in her nose, the sound of Azula’s frenzied, maniacal, desperate sobs echoing in the air. Zuko’s weight braced against hers, her hand steady against his back, the beating of his heart still palpable against the flat of her palm.

She remembers the heartbreaking look on his face, a mixture of regret and pity, as he’d gazed at what had become of his sister.

She remembers her confusion, the drumming of her own heart inside her chest, the uncomfortable tightening of her body that had nothing to do with the recently-concluded Agni Kai in which she’d participated.

In that moment, she hadn’t even known whether Aang was alive or dead. Whether he had returned. Whether he had successfully defeated the Fire Lord.

What she did know was that Zuko had nearly given his life for hers, and she was in his debt, and now he was in hers, and this could go on forever if she allowed it. All she had to do was reach out and take it.

But she’d remained immobile.

The Avatar and the Fire Lord. How could she possibly choose?

Aang was safety. Zuko was danger.

Aang was comfort. Zuko was passion.

With Aang, there was a promise of a long and happy life together. With Zuko, there were no promises.

And so, her hand stubbornly rested by her side and they remained standing together in a show of camaraderie, until the heralds came running forth to announce the defeat of Phoenix King Ozai and the return of the Avatar.

He had saved her. She had healed him. The debts were balanced. They were even.

But he never quite looked at her in the same way again.

And though she’s lived a long and satisfying life with Aang, it certainly hasn’t been perfect. Aang hadn’t been as perfect a father or a husband as she’d envisioned when she was younger. Life has been difficult, and now he’s gone to where she can’t follow, and she’s alone for good this time.

She envisions what might have been, in another life, if she’d chosen differently. She imagines a life in which she rebuilds the Fire Nation with him, a life where she stays by his side through his multiple trials and tribulations, a life where she isn’t alone today. She imagines what his kiss might have been like, she imagines being consulted as an equal, she imagines her children not feeling neglected by their father. She imagines what the world might have looked like if she had been Fire Lady Katara –

But such thoughts are useless, a waste of wind. She’s made the only choice she could have made and now, they are strangers.

At the end of her life, Katara doesn’t regret her choice. But she still doesn’t know if it was the right one.

* * *

 


End file.
